


By The Bridge

by fairlylocaldreamer



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:20:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29365389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairlylocaldreamer/pseuds/fairlylocaldreamer
Summary: "He tugged an earbud out, moving closer.Oh, fuck no.It wasn't bags of trash. It was a man."
Relationships: Josh Dun & Tyler Joseph, Josh Dun/Debby Ryan
Kudos: 4





	By The Bridge

It was well after dark when Josh passed by the bridge. He'd been meaning to go running earlier, sticking to his afternoon schedule, but he'd gotten distracted fixing the leaking faucet and by the time he'd finally gotten the damn thing to work properly, dusk had fallen. His wife had told him to just skip the run, but after fifteen minutes of Josh pacing relentlessly around the living room, she'd all but thrown his running sneakers at his chest and pushed him out the door.

He'd never really ran in the dark, but it was nice. It helped him focus on nothing but his labored breathing and the burn of his legs as he pushed himself harder. He made a mental note to run in the dark more often.

Josh was passing by the bridge. It was an old structure, good for first dates and kisses. On one side, meadows of flowers spread out, leaves rustling in the wind. On the other side, road, and farther down, houses and neighborhoods. The bridge wasn't small, by any means. It was a good forty feet off the ground, and it was old, so when climbing it, you had to be careful.

The music was blaring through his headphones and Josh's eyes mindlessly scanned the side of the road. He frowned, slowing his pace. Had someone really left bags of trash just underneath the bridge? He tugged an earbud out, moving closer.

Oh, fuck no.

His breath froze in his lungs, legs coming to an abrupt halt. The hammering of his heart was certainly _not_ from the. exercise.

It wasn't bags of trash.

It was a man.

Josh's hands fumbled for his phone, unplugging his headphones. The music came to a halt. He dialed 911 with shaky hands, staring in horror at the body laid across the asphalt.

"911, what's your emergency?"

He stumbled through an explanation of what he'd found, and the lady on the line assured him that there was help on the way.

"Do you see any signs of life, sir? Movement, breathing, anything?"

Though he didn't want to, Josh moved closer, crouching down next to the man. "No."

"Alright." There was the sound of a typing keyboard on the other line, and the operator was saying something else, something about how far the ambulance was, and maybe Josh could hear sirens if he strained his ears but he was staring at the body with a twisted sort of fascination, mixed in with a healthy dose of disgust and sadness.

He was handsome. Slightly curly hair was swept to one side, almost hiding his left eye, framed by long, black eyelashes. His nose was small, and kind of pointed. His lips were slightly parted, and Josh kept expecting for a breath to pass through them, a small huff, maybe the kind of snore his wife made when she was sound asleep. It never came.

The man was handsome, but colorless. Josh wasn't sure of his height, and he didn't want to look at his disfigured, crumpled legs to try and figure it out.

He was still crouching when the paramedics arrived, and then a police officer was shuffling him out of the way, guiding him gently by the shoulders. When she asked if he would be willing to come to the police station to give an official witness statement, Josh only nodded numbly and followed her to the car.

At the station, Josh called his wife to tell her not to wait up for him. It might be a while before he got home. As they said their goodbyes and 'I love you's', Josh wondered if the man had a wife, or a husband, or a _someone_ waiting up for him, wondering when he'd come home. If someone had said goodbye or I love you before he'd left. If he'd said it back.

It was nearing one in the morning when Josh got dropped off back at his house by another officer. He reached out and squeezed Josh's shoulder as a small consolation and a goodbye, and Josh mustered a smile and said a quiet thanks before heading up his driveway.

His wife was sitting cross-legged on the living room couch, nervously chewing on her fingernail. Josh stumbled through the door and she shot up. They stared at each other for a moment, and then she was wrapping her arms around him and he sobbed into her shoulder as they crumpled onto a heap on the floor. She ran her fingers soothingly through his hair and rubbed his back as he cried himself out, soaking her shirt with his tears. When Josh lifted his head with a final sniffle, she cupped his face in her hands.

God, Josh loved his wife and he almost started crying again when she whispered, "Do you wanna talk about it?"

Instead, he gave her a weak smile and turned his head to kiss the palm of her hand. "I think this is more of a conversation to have with my therapist."

She smiled sadly, kissed him softly, and helped him get ready for bed. She didn't even complain about how sweat had dried on his skin, just slipped under the covers beside him and wrapped her arm around his torso, laying her head on his chest.

Josh stared at the ceiling for a long, long time. He glanced at the woman sleeping next to him and wondered if there was someone out there sleeping alone. He thought about people who would cry for the man, and wondered how many people would show up to his funeral. How many people would live the rest of their lives with an empty hole that would never quite heal completely.

He got the urge to shake his wife awake and tell her that he loved her, and that he would never leave her like that, and that he would never let her cry as hard over him as he cried over a man he didn't even know the name of, but instead he just tightened his arm around her and decided he would tell her tomorrow, and kiss her until he couldn't breathe as soon as he woke up.

The world could be ugly, and Josh was no stranger to the idea of spilling his blood on the street, to ending the pain. But as he drifted off to sleep, he smelled his wife's coconut shampoo and felt her small puff of breath on his shoulder, and he knew that jumping off a bridge wouldn't be an option for him. The world could also be so beautiful, and Josh was there to stay.

**Author's Note:**

> writing this made me sad  
> (also I have no idea how finding someone in the situation goes, my apologizes for any misinformation)
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr by clicking [here.](https://fairly--local-dreamer.tumblr.com) Send me questions, requests, whatever. Let's hang out!  
> Thanks for reading! Leave kudos or comments if you want, and have a great day/night/whatever. Stay street and stay alive my dudes.


End file.
